


From Ash to Dust

by Lady_GothiKa



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jeremiah is bitter and dark, Reader is one of Jerome's followers, Suicidal Thoughts, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 03:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15572340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_GothiKa/pseuds/Lady_GothiKa
Summary: You were trying to deal withhisloss.Trying the only way you know how.Untilsomeoneknocked on the door.





	From Ash to Dust

You chose to wear all black, you even dyed your hair and wore the makeup to go along. You were in mourning, wiping a tear from under your eyes, shielded by a black veil that was pinned into your hair. The only thing that wasn’t black was the golden necklace around your neck with the letter ‘J’ that hangs between your breasts.

You had stolen it with him, on your first heist together at a jewelry store of all places. You could still remember him smashing the glass with the back of his double barrel shotgun and pulling it around your neck. The memory made you tear up, holding an old newspaper clipping from back when his slut mother took an axe to the face.

A thumb rubbed over his beautiful smile if only you could see it one last time. You held back the tear, rolling your head back as your lips trembled. It was said he had died with a smile stricken on his face, the idea alone made you laugh ugly tears.

“I miss you Mister J.” You cried out loud, unraveling your folded up legs on the floor and gently laying down amongst the rubble. You had but almost destroyed your apartment when word had gotten out that he had died. You should have been with him, you blame yourself, why didn’t he ask for you? You would have given your life for him, ten times over - yet you couldn’t, it was over, and you doubted if he would ever raise from the dead again.

So you flew into a panicked rage, grabbing the katana off the wall, slicing sofa into pieces, smashing plates, you broke the windows and slashed the pillows to the point the house was littered with white feathers.

You missed him so much and you never even had a chance to say goodbye, amongst other things that were left unsaid for far too long. But it didn’t matter, it was too late and you were nothing but his most loyal follower, his ‘First Lieutenant’ he called you, but you’ll never hear him say it again, not ever.

You breathed out in a shaky huff, grabbing the revolver beside your head. Take all the bullets out except one, lining them up in front of your feet. The glimpse of red on your wrist drew in your attention for just a second. It was just a tattoo you had gotten after the day you had joined his gathering, a large red smile with a heart underneath with his and your initials mid center. It’s what drew him to you before he had kidnapped Bruce Wayne at the Carnival. He walked past everyone, but when he saw your wrist, a smile etched over his face like an insane angel and out of everyone else he decided to go with you, in your car with dear old Brucey in the boot.

After that he got sent back to Arkham, you were almost tempted to go after him, but he told you to stay put and be his eyes and ears on the outside, he said he could only trust you after all, and you were the only person who came to visit him every visiting hour he had; which wasn’t many, just every other Thursday.

He was your everything, your reason for breathing, your reason for living, without him you were merely existing. Because of him you finally stood up, his story inspired you. You had lived for so many years living in pain because of your abusive father, the things he did had left a scar on you, ones that could never be healed, ones as deep as the ones left on Jerome’s face, yet yours were flesh deep and only you could see them. For every time you saw your reflection, you saw a monster you had become, haggard and hacked, with nothing left but scar tissue.

Jerome was the first to see it, the first not to say ‘sorry.’ he simply squeezed your shoulder and told you, it made you who you are today. That the pain and suffering could be a good thing for the right reasons, it shapes a person and pushes them harder and makes them stronger and tougher to knock down.

He was the strongest person you ever met.

And you just wanted to see him again, at any cost.

The barrel turned, clicking with each twist. Dying didn’t scare you, living was the part that made you afraid, the ifs buts and maybes were too much to handle. The barrel was cold under your chin, it was good though, it made you think about him.

Your index finger tightened around the trigger, you took a breath of air, taking in every second just in case it was your last, you wanted to be able to die with a smile if you could, it’s what he would have wanted.  
  
This is it.

You close your eyes, letting your lungs empty.

Everything goes still, dark, quieter than ever before.

Until you hear a tapping at the door, that makes your eyes open and rage boils your blood, turning the gun from your chin, you aim it at the door a squeeze the trigger, amidst a bullet firing from the end penetrating through the wooden door, bursting it into shards.

That would have been your head.

A gloved hand reaches in through the hole, feeling around as it finds its way up to the pull along lock, sliding it across the pin comes loose with a click. It creaks as it opens and a tall man reveals himself, dressed head to toe in dark purple suit and tie, alongside some black and white dress shoes, a wide brim hat and bulky, opaque shades that masked his eyes. His skin was pale like a corpse and his lips were scarlet red.

You remained quiet while he stepped forward, his shoes crackled over the shattered pieces of glass, striding into your living room, before clutching a dining room chair, flipping it over and taking a seat next to your position on the floor.

“I gotta say doll, you don’t disappoint.” A wide sinister smile split over his lips after the words, forcing you to blink your eyes more than twice, watching the man peel off his glasses before tucking them into his breast pocket.

“You!” You know who he is, exactly who he is, You were one of the only few, if not the only that grasped Jerome’s plans to off his evil twin. Your hand began to reach out for the katana that laid across the floor but his foot propels out and steps on your hand making cry out in pain as he takes it instead. “Tsk, tsk. I knew you would be loyal, but…” He inclines his head to the side, unsheathing the sword from its leather grip. “Who knew that loyal, far more than the others - I guess my brother was right about something after all.”

His voice almost kills you itself, just listening to him talk is more disturbing than any injury he could physically inflict. “Jerome wanted you dead, Jeremiah,” You gasp in pain, clutching your hand. “Even if he is gone, you won’t be leaving this room alive while my heart still beats.” That was a promise.

“Oh - dear - lord.” He affirmed with a bored tone in his voice, throwing the leather sheath across the floor amongst all the other rubble of the room. “Oh help me, please don’t hurt me…” Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “From where I am sitting girly, I don’t believe you should be the one giving threats.”

“You’re the one barking up the wrong tree, ginger,” You ridicule back, watching his milky blue eyes belittle you with just a glance alone. “I am hitting for the opposite team and I ain’t about to change anytime soon.”

Jeremiah murmurs with that conclusion, running his finger against the blunt end of the blade. “I wouldn’t dream of converting you, sweets - I am just here for the goods.” His hand reaches into his coat, drawing forward a small leather-bound book. “Can you believe dear old Jerome kept a journal of all things, he never was the literate sort.” He chuckled, flicking it open with one hand.

“Just because he was your brother doesn’t mean you knew anything about him.” You clench your jaw watching on as this pale man defile one of Jerome’s belongings.

“True, true.” He groans. “If only, then I guess understanding his nonsense would be a hundred times easier.” He raised an eye too you, “No offense of course.”

“Though one thing I did make out amongst the all the scribbles of death, chaos and mayhem did stand out.” Jeremiah pursed his lips, turning the journal around showing you the page in question, perhaps the reason he’s here.

Your heart skipped, it was two whole pages of the same word, repeated over and over again, wrote what appeared red crayon.

Your name.

“Awh,” he cooed in a voice that was meant to hurt. “Who would've known my manic brother could have had a soft spot after all. To think I can still screw with his crushes, even after death… it’s that hilarious?”

“I was never his crush, I was…” It’s hard to talk about such things, especially to him. “Nothing more than a loyal friend so cut the shit.”

“Just,’ huh?” He laughed, “Keep turning the pages.” He threw the journal at you, making you want to tear up again, to think Jerome once held this while writing your name made all the bad feelings come back like one giant wave. “At the end, sweets. C’mon now, I don’t have all day.” He urged.

He forcing you to move faster, but you couldn’t help aching to gaze at all his sketches and everything he wrote. When you finally got to the end, you didn’t see anything. “On the back cover, inside.” He sighed. You flipped over the cover, inside was an etching of a heart, furthermore matching the initials that placed between your tattoo.

“I am going to take a wild guess and say that’s got something to do with you, am I right?” He raises a ginger brow as you shove the journal back in his hands, this was too much to take in so quickly. Therefore you simply nod your head in response, pulling back your sleeve so he might see your half the tale.

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.”

The moment passes where his eyes part from the ink while he begins to stand, knocking you back with his foot, forcing you land back on your hands. Jeremiah takes his dark purple coat off, swinging it around and placing it on the back of the chair along with his hat, cracking his neck and loosening his tie with a hooked finger around his neck. “Get up off the floor.”

Everything he says is so bitter and cold, nothing like his brother at all. His hand clutches a bottle of vodka from the top shelf of your kitchen, picking up a chipped teacup, he pours in the liquor before taking a sip from the end with the less damage. “What’s with the sword, sweets?” He smacks his red lips together and places the katana on the bench next to the bottle.

“Bullets are too quick.” You tilt your head slowly standing, dusting your knees off. Bullets were a mercy killing, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to blow your own brains out.

“So you like it slow, huh?” He smirks, taking another sip while walking towards you, his back straight, shoes crunching over the broken glass and a hand pushing the teacup into your hand.

Your gut twisted, as his hands removed the veil from your hair, placing it to the ground at your feet. He was so close you feel his breath stroking your skin, deliberately moving you back towards to wall, till your head thumped against the solid panels.

“Drink, don’t make me ask twice.” He orders.

You take the glass to your lips consuming the contents, throwing the cup over his shoulder when you were finished, with a hand now lose you grab his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles twice to pull his face in close. “Do it, ask me twice.”

He laughs in acknowledgment against the side of your cheek, “Ha, such a minx! No wonder Jerome just couldn’t get enough of you, my, my - we have ourselves a keeper here.” His hand took the crook of your waist, pulling you closer and pressed it against his larger frame.

“Don’t get any fucking ideas.” Your hand twists his tie around his neck, gaging a groan out of his mouth and restricting his breathing.

Jeremiah leans his head rolled back parting his lips for a grasp of air, “I wouldn’t dream of it darl,” He muttered a dry cackle, exhaling through his nose while taking raspy pants. “It would seem in poor taste, to go places my brothers been…” He clicks his head to the side amidst a large red smile. “Oh wait…” His lip curled, making your blood boil. You go to kick him, to raise your knee yet he grabs it before it before you do any harm wrapping it around his body, coiling you around his mass. “Ha, hit a nerve sweets?”

You hold back the tears as he raises your chin with his finger and thumb, your fingers loosen their grip around his tie and he takes a large breath, letting his chest heave in and out for air. “Look at me.” Your eyes turn to his. “Y’know I just want to help, but you’re making this so damn... hard.”

“Then stop fucking boning me, you piece of shit.” You hiss back in his pale face.

“Oh…” He sways his head. “My bad.” His shoulders rise, a hand grabbing your left arm pinning it the wall above your head while laughing. “Sorry about the hand. Ya know what they say, sweets, you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.”

“But - _but_ \- but....” He kinks his neck. “I am here on purposes that don’t require banging, boning or beating, so it’s really up to you how this whole thing plays out. It was to my deepest surprise that two weeks ago I had someone look into the name I found in Jerome’s journal, who came back with information that the girl in question wasn’t just some corner side whore.”

You clench your jaw. “Get on with it, while I am still listening.”

Jeremiah licks his lips, rolling his eyes to the side. “Then I found you were the real deal - the whole kit and caboodle, and that my girl, brought a real smile to my face.” He grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth.

You shook your head to the side. “Then what do you want with me? if you wanted me dead - one of us would already be _dead.”_

“Such an optimist.” He smirked. “Like I said from the beginning, I ain’t trying to convert you, I just want some help, ya know? Bringing a whole city down with my own two hands it a tedious job, one I’d rather do with a perky ass beside me. And by the looks of this room, It seems like your the kind of gal who takes pleasure in destroying shit.”

His blunt nails dig deep into your wrist as he says the words. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’d like to watch the world burn, bucko. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever work for you.”

Jeremiah huffs, rubbing his thumb over Jerome’s initials within the heart tattoo. “We’re both on the same side here kid, I just want to make sure his legacy lives on, even if I have to burn this city down over and over to prove it.”

The words shake your body, as his spare hand leaves your waist and feels up your hip coiled around his waistband. You could almost do it, following him out that door would be so easy, so damn easy it makes you feel sick. Yet what he offers is to let Jerome live on, in a way that just isn't another corpse in the ground.

“Just think about it, I and my brother have the same initials after all.” his thumb rubs over the tattoo, while you were in the middle of thinking. “Maybe...just maybe, _it’s fate.”_

“Deal. _I accept.”_ It would be better than blowing your head off, after all.

“Goodies, wanna sake on it darl?” He lowers his brows, dropping his hand from your thigh.

You sigh, pushing his chest back, grabbing tie once again, pulling it over your shoulder as you turn on your heels, leading him through the room. “I don’t shake, to promise my deals.” You smile back.

 

“Well, hot damn.”

 

 

 

`


End file.
